I’ll be home for Christmas. And frankly, I’m not too sure how I feel about that. When I first came here I kept counting down the weeks to going home “9 weeks, 8, 7, 6, 5…” and then the excitement stopped there. Maybe it’s because I’ve gotten so used to life here. I was so pleased looking at the weather forecast and seeing that the temperature will remain comfortably around 8 degrees for the week, when before I would have been freezing at twice that temperature. Though I’ll never pass on an opportunity to eat Asian food, I don’t crave it as much. Neither do I daydream about the Singapore landscape anymore.
But I do suspect there’s something more to it.
I don’t think I’ve changed much. Except being in a new environment, and living a much less cluttered life did mellow me a lot, and I spent a lot more time looking inside myself than before. I have friends who have shared similar sentiments – being here, your life becomes a lot “cleaner”, and you become a lot more in touch with those feelings you couldn’t feel in Singapore, where every day is about doing and doing and not stopping to think much.
And perhaps, I guess, that’s where my reluctance to go home comes from. Coming here was like opening the door to my heart and realising that behind the door were rooms and rooms of accumulated rubbish that I never knew existed. And then realising that I will never move forward as a person until I can deal with all of that. I have to go back in order to go forward. But boy, is that thought terrifying.
So there is part one of my answer. The other part is difficult to explain. Suffice it to say that not only do I not want to go back, but I also have reasons to want to stay. Maybe this is how people feel when they run away from home – not just that you want to run away, but that you’ve found a place you can run to. But I am not so deluded yet that I think running away will save me.
Have I lost you there? I’m sorry. I think I can put it a lot more simply. It’s a common affliction; it’s the struggle for love – wanting so badly to be loved and looking for it in all the wrong places, and each time only becoming more acutely aware that this isn’t really what you want, yet not quite knowing where else to go. That’s all.
I’m really not sure what’s going to happen when I go home. So far the only thing I’ve decided on doing is Muay Thai, because I feel a strong desire to punch something, and also, eating a lot of green tea parfaits. But well, this might actually be interesting. And perhaps, more comforting than I’m expecting it to be. One must always remain optimistic, for things are never as bad as they seem. We’ll take this a step at a time. Going home, I realise now, is not a break from my journey, it’s a part of it.